Repercussions
by Sofia-Casualty
Summary: All actions have repercussions and after Sam's sudden departure just over a year ago, he returns to Holby with Grace, landing right in the middle of the consequences of his rash decision.
1. Chapter 1

**Trigger warning: Adult themes/concepts**

 **Part 1/2**

Their sun-kissed skin tones looked oddly out of place against the Great British grey sky, the wind whipping at them angrily as they made their way up to the front door.

"The spare key, Gracie, where does she keep it?" He asked, his face wrinkled up at the harsh weather they were being attacked by.

"Under the plant pot on the left." She called out as she wrestled with her suitcase up the stone steps, she laughed a little as her Father's tie wavered in the gale force wind, hitting him in the face as he struggled with the key. Finally he managed to open it and let them both in to the refuge of Connie's house. He'd tried calling ahead of their arrival home but she wasn't answering. He could only figure she was being salty about it and choosing to ignore his calls, technically he couldn't really be angry at her. His spontaneous and last minute trip the the US was poorly planned and he knew it'd go down badly with Connie so he didn't bother running it by her first, possibly a dangerous move but he was willing to take that risk.

"Do you think she'll be mad?" Grace asked nervously as she set her case upright in the hallway.

"Gracie, knowing your Mother she's going to be furious." He raised his brow at her. "But that's if she's even home." Looking around, he clocked her bag on the kitchen counter, her keys sat next to it. She was definitely home.

"Maybe we should check upstairs?"

"You go have a look, I'll put the kettle on." Always one to make himself at home wherever he was, he smiled before hearing her jog upstairs as he headed into the kitchen properly to flick the kettle on. It was a mere matter of seconds before Grace reappeared before him.

"She's asleep." Climbing up on to one of the breakfast bar stools, she yawned tiredly, oblivious to Sam's confused face. Wriggling his wrist, he glanced down at his watch and frowned. It was half eight in the morning, she was usually up and about at this time. Shrugging it off he grabbed three cups out, knowing that as soon as she heard noise she'd be down in seconds. A coffee could possibly calm her down if she started going off at him, he needed to be prepared himself and a coffee would probably wake him up too. He poured the hot water into the cups, stirring each one equally, adding milk and sugar to each before handing one to Grace.

"Careful, it's hot." He warned in a caring manner as she took the mug from him, his whole body tensed when he caught Connie's bag with his elbow, knocking it to the floor making an almighty sound. They both shared a cringed look between them at the loud noise he'd just made before he quickly bent down to replace the contents of her bag back within it.

"You're so clumsy." Grace smiled, sipping her coffee and laughing at her Dad's lack of poise.

"Listen, you." He threatened jokingly, still on his hands and knees. "Do you want tomorrow off or shall I just send you to school regardless of jet-lag?" He laughed as she swung a leg at him playfully but his brain and body ceased all movement. His heart jumping as he picked up the last item to replace in her bag. An empty pill bottle. Not just _any_ kind of pill bottle, they were prescription Anti-Depressants. Swallowing hard, he stood up slowly still studying the pharmacy sticker. The pills had been prescribed the day before today. There was no way in hell she'd finished them all in less than two days. Or _had_ she?

All of a sudden it was as if his mind, body and soul all clicked with the same morbid conclusion. He could hear his own heart beating in his head. Ignoring Grace's blanked out words he dashed out of the room at an alarming pace, racing up the stairs almost three at a time and darting straight into Connie's room, not bothering to even attempt being quiet. He was at her bedside instantly, her back was facing him and the door. Touching her shoulder cautiously he still half expected a response. Nothing. She was cold to touch. Grabbing her urgently, he pulled her on to her back in a laying down position and shook her as firmly as he could. She was completely limp.

"Connie!" He shook her again, starting to panic as Grace entered the room.

"Dad? What're you doing?"

"Call an ambulance, now!" He hadn't want to alarm Grace at first but his own panic prevented that from happening. Grace having being taught from an early age with parents in the medical field, didn't hesitate. Running back downstairs to do as her Father had instructed, she felt the panic heating within her also. Partly due to seeing her Father so worked up. "Come on, Connie." The waver in his voice was new, even to him. She wasn't breathing, it was evident to the eye from her pale complexion and the blueish tinge to her lips and skin. Becoming distressed, he checked her pulse before attempting CPR. The springs in the bed made it hard to perform it properly, forcing him to pick her up and place her on the carpeted floor. She was completely inert, lifeless, not one single muscle working in her body. Rolling his sleeves up he continued with the compressions, giving her air between each set.

"Come on, Connie!" He huffed each word between his compressions, his heart rate sky-rocketing. Almost as if it was trying to bear for her too.

"Dad." Grace cried from the doorway. "What's happened to her?" She sobbed worriedly.

"I don't want you in here." He panted, still compressing. He heard her ribs cracking under the pressure of his weight on her chest. "Go and wait downstairs."

"But you're hurting her!"

"Downstairs, now!" He more or less barked the order, making her jump as she backed out of the room. The tears staining her face felt cool in the air. This couldn't be happening. He refused to believe it. It was all just a nightmare, he'd wake up soon and none of this will have happened.

But it _was_ real. It _had_ happened.

* * *

His mind and body felt numb, nothing around him was registering with his senses anymore. Instead, he remained sat staring blankly ahead of himself, Jez was comforting Grace, which he should have been doing as her Father but he could't speak. Iain kept stealing glances over at him as he finished buckling the gurney straps over her chest a legs, the blanket beneath them hugging her cold body tightly.

"Any later and she'd stand no chance, luck was on your side today." He spoke abruptly, remaining on his knees as he re-adjusted the oxygen mask on her face. She had a pulse, was being assisted in breathing but she was still unconscious. Still pale in colour. "Jez, help me out 'ere." Getting to his feet, he waited for Jez before they lifted the gurney cautiously. "We need to get a move on, it's not looking good."

"Yeah, found a load of empty wine bottles downstairs too some vodka as well."

"Keep it down, mate." He nodded in Grace's direction, although they were whispering they still had to remain sensitive to the situation. Sam remained paralysed until Grace's hand tugging at his brought him back to Earth.

"Dad, I want to go with them." She whimpered emotionally, tears still streaming down her face. There was no way he was allowing her to witness what was to come.

* * *

"She knew what she was doing." Dylan stated matter-of-factly, they'd cleared resus of any unnecessary staff in order to provide her with as much privacy as possible. "Iain found a second empty prescription bottle in the sheets."

"You mean she purposely _saved_ them before collecting a repeat prescription with the intention of taking them all at once?" Ethan's heart ached, how could have not noticed how delicate she was. They'd become incredibly close since Sam left and he wasn't even there for her in her time of need. His gaze was fixed upon her lifeless body as she lay on her side, positioned by the staff to reduce the risk of choking of she was to throw up.

"And proceeded to wash them down with two bottles of shiraz and half a bottle of vodka. Like I said, she knew what she was doing." Dylan retorted miserably.

"She didn't intend on returning from this." Iain shook his head sadly whilst making a final statement, brushing past Sam abrasively as he and Jez left.

"Mr Strachan, I don't think you should be in here-"

"I'm staying, Dr Hardy." He reaffirmed aggressively. "What's the damage?"

"Well you're the hotshot US trauma doctor, why don't you tell us what _you_ think?" He outstretched his arm in Connie's general direction. Sam was slightly confused about the oddly emotional behaviour Ethan was displaying.

"Dr Hardy." Dylan warned, not wanting a fight to break out when what they really needed to do was put their heads together and do their best for Connie. "How about we just concentrate on helping Mrs Beauchamp? Yes? Okay, good." He put his hands on his hips, glancing up at the monitor screens. "Okay, her BP is extremely elevated and her heart rate is ridiculously rapid, so let's make a start on sorting those out first please." He spoke quickly and calmly, his level-headedness was needed in this particular situation. "Then we'll intubate and perform a gastric lavage, quick as we can, thank you." He turned to face Sam quickly. "Dr Hardy's right, you don't need to be in here."

"I'm staying. Please, let me help." His eyes were wide and hopeful, the emotion bare to the few people occupying the room.

" _Help?_ " Ethan barked with disbelief. "Don't you think you've caused enough damage-"

"Dr Hardy, I won't tell you again-"

"No!" Ethan cut him off sharply, still working on Connie, looking up between performing tasks. " _This."_ He motioned to Connie's limp, vulnerable state. "This is all _his_ doing, he needs to leave."

"Mr Strachan, you need to leave the room. Otherwise, I'll be forced to call security." Dylan breathed irately, he had to do what was best for Connie and, ultimately, keeping Ethan calm and focused was the better option. So Sam had to go. Surprisingly he actually did as he was told. Leaving defeatedly as his thoughts spiralled, Ethan's words echoing through his brain and haunting his conscience.

Was this _all_ really his fault?


	2. Chapter 2

***Okay, looks like this will be a three parter, sorry!***

 **TW: Adult themes/concepts**

 **Part 2/3**

"She's out of the woods, so to speak, still a long way to go though." Dylan spoke monotonously as he placed his hands on hips, looking at Ethan unsurely. "I'll call psych to come and take a look at her when she comes around." They were stood outside the private room she'd been settled in. He went to walk away upon giving his final orders.

"No." He answered immediately, almost seeming to start backtracking. "I mean, I know psych need to assess her but let me speak to her first, please."

"Fine, but get psych down _as soon_ as you've finished. Thank you, Dr Hardy." His awkward and quickly spoken words ignited a wave of relief within Ethan as he watched the Consultant leave the dimly lit corridor swiftly.

"How is she?" A cracked voice from behind where he stood startled him. It was Strachan. Again.

"I thought I told you to leave." He asserted an air of authority over his spoken words as he walked towards the Nurses station for the floor they were on. It was so much calmer and quieter up here compared to the ED. Aside from himself and Sam, there was nobody else to be seen.

"And since when did I start taking orders from a junior doctor-"

"Since you resigned and no longer work here, you're a visitor and an unwelcome one at that. Now, you can either leave nicely or I can call security to escort you out? You are the _last_ person she is going to want to see when she wakes up."

"Look, I know she was probably angry with me but-" Ethan interrupted with a humourless laugh, confusing and silencing Sam straight away.

"Oh my God, you have absolutely no idea."

"Then _tell_ me!" The desperation in his face and voice slightly pulled on Ethan's kind heartstrings but flickers of Connie's troubled times ran through his mind, causing him to clench his fists at the very thought. Hardening his face again, he looked Sam dead in the eye.

"Security it is then." He brushed past the speechless former Holby medic and made a beeline for the phone on the nurses desk.

"Alright! I'm going, I'm going. I just-" He cut himself off, shaking his head as his hands dropped to his sides defeatedly. "Just tell her I'm sorry and I want to see her. Grace wants to see her." Ethan still had hold of the phone, not letting the threat go until he saw Sam turn around and leave like a dog with his tail tucked firmly between his legs.

* * *

The passing minutes soon turned into hours, then days. Three to be precise, and still nothing. Sam hadn't shied away from his true colours, refusing to stay away and Ethan was forced to accept it. He'd brought Grace into it and insisted he had a right to be there. Dylan, forever wanting to avoid drama, told Ethan to keep it civil, Connie could fight her own battles and upon awaking if she wanted him gone she'd be sure to let everyone including Sam himself know. There was no doubt about that.

"Right, so you're actually planning on sticking around for the next couple of weeks then?" Dylan asked nonchalantly, not once looking at Sam as he spoke to him. He was checking over her monitors whilst Ethan pulled his stethoscope away from her chest and back around his neck. Attempting to remain civil as Dylan had requested.

"Of course." He responded almost offended, blind to his own actions an their catastrophic consequences. This man was possibly more infuriating than Ethan's late brother, Cal.

"Right, good. Well I hope you're prepared for the ride." With his hands on his hips, he grabbed his pen from the table on the end of the bed, replacing it in his shirt pocket before heading towards the door.

" _Ride_?" Sam questioned as he got to his feet from the chair in the room. "Why? What's her recovery process?"

"That's not quite what I meant, Mr Strachan." He couldn't hold his huff back as he was halted right at the doorway before he even got chance to pull the handle and now he was stuck in conversation again. He just stared at him, awaiting a response but judging by the blank look on Sam's face there obviously wasn't going to be one, causing Dylan to sigh in a baffled manner. "Right, how shall I put this. Okay, imagine you're feeling really down, really crappy, in fact _so_ incredibly miserable you no longer want to live. So you mentally prepare yourself to take your own life and you wait patiently for the right time before necking back a hell of a lot of pills, washing them down with a ridiculous amount of alcohol. Then, when you've finally carried through with it after an agonising build up to actually swallow the pulls and it's apparently worked, imagine waking up in a hospital bed and you're still alive. All of that torment, the emotional and mental trauma of building up to this final event and it was all for nothing. When she wakes up, she'll let you know how upset she is, mark my words Mr Strachan and believe me when I say this, I'm _elated_ that you're back to witness it because you played a big part in this mess. A really big part." Having lost his cool, quite uncharacteristically, he slammed the door behind himself after leaving. A shell-shocked Sam stood motionlessly.

"She's still stable, I'll come back and check on her later." Ethan's dry tone hit the air sharply, causing Sam to glance at him swiftly.

"This isn't Connie." He breathed sadly. "She wouldn't do _this_." He moved his gaze from Ethan to Connie's frame in the bed beside him.

"I don't know what else you want us to say, Sam." He leant back on one foot shaking his head disbelievingly. "She was a changed person after you disappeared with Grace-"

"I didn't _disappear_ , she _knew_ where we were. She had regular contact with Grace, I-"

"You _disappeared_ the day you'd agreed to have breakfast with her. You let her stand outside your empty flat with no knowledge of your whereabouts and no explanation as to why you left! Do you have any idea what that can do to a person?" He yelled, his temper flaring on Connie's behalf. "She was-" Stopping himself abruptly, he folded his lips and breathed out steadily.

"She was what?"

"Broken." He corrected after a few seconds of hanging silence, steering away from where his initial sentence was headed. "You broke her down and now _we_ are putting her back together again, hence why we'd appreciate if you'd steer clear when she wakes up because quite frankly I don't think she'll survive another run in with you." Following suit, he left the room just as angrily as Dylan had, leaving Sam to drown in his fast growing pangs of guilt as he slid back into the chair slowly.

Could someone so strong, so independent and so career driven really change _this_ much in a year? He brought his head up from resting in his hands to look over at her. She looked like a shell of the woman he'd once known. Ethan was right, she even looked broken. Groaning frustratedly at himself he sat back with a temper, slamming his balled fist on to the arm of the chair. The consequences of his selfish decision finally starting to sink in.

What if he'd talked this through with her first? Explained his plans and intentions for the year they went away? Maybe none of this would have happened? But he didn't and now here they were. Closing his eyes, he rested his head on the back of the chair tiredly. His eyes re-opened slowly at the sound of movement next to him. Sitting upright quickly, he saw her hand shifting by her side, her head turning only slightly whilst her eyes remained closed.

"Connie?"


End file.
